


can't nobody stop the juice

by juliusschmidt



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boners, Coming In Pants, Dry Humping, Exhibitionism, Horny Teenagers, M/M, OT5, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:33:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7277377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/pseuds/juliusschmidt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Harry should put on trousers; it’d be the polite thing to do. But the doorbell has already rung. And it’s ringing again. Perhaps to the beat of Justin Bieber. Yes, he can pick it out: <em>baby baby baby ooohoooh baby baby baby. </em></i>
</p><p>
  <i>Which means Louis is here (and Liam and Niall and Zayn, probably) and if Harry has to wait another moment to see him, he might dissolve into a puddle of anxiety right here on the floor of his room. </i>
</p><p>  <i>He doesn’t have time for trousers.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	can't nobody stop the juice

**Author's Note:**

> for an anon prompt requesting larry and the kink 'coming in pants' 
> 
> they're in their late teens, though it is never explicitly stated. i'm not imagining this as any kind of underage. 
> 
> unbetaed

Harry should put on trousers; it’d be the polite thing to do. But the doorbell has already rung. And it’s ringing again. Perhaps to the beat of Justin Bieber. Yes, he can pick it out: _baby baby baby ooohoooh baby baby baby._

Which means Louis is here (and Liam and Niall and Zayn, probably) and if Harry has to wait another moment to see him, he might dissolve into a puddle of anxiety right here on the floor of his room. 

He doesn’t have time for trousers. 

(And maybe he also wants Louis to see his new forest green boxers. They’re so soft and he thinks they bring out his eyes.) 

He rushes down the stairs and pulls open the door. He puts his hands on his hips and grins at his visitors. “Welcome to my beautiful home.” 

“Beautiful,” Louis repeats. He’s wearing trousers, which is a shame. But, Harry supposes, if he’s got to wear trousers, they might as well be white ones, which they are. 

Liam peaks over Louis' shoulder, fake smile plastered on his face. “Great guys. Let’s just stand here on the porch staring at each other.” 

“Hello, boys. Goodness, Harry.” His mother is behind him and she doesn’t sound happy. He knows what this is about and he thinks she should stop blaming him for killing off her favorite characters on the soaps. It’s not his fault she always falls in love the chivalrous soldier/bodyguard/spy’s wife. 

But no, that’s not her complaint today. Instead, she says, “You have guests over. The least you can do is put on your trousers. Be considerate.” 

Harry meets Louis’ gaze and rolls his eyes. Mums. 

Louis doesn’t smile though. No, his eyes drop right back down to Harry’s crotch. Which definitely doesn’t twitch. 

Harry leads the boys into the living room. “What are we watching?” 

“You invited us over for an X-Men marathon, Harry,” says Zayn. “So we should probably watch X-Men.” 

“Ah,” Harry replies, tapping his chin. “But which one?”

“One of the ones with Sir. Ian, obviously,” Louis says, pulling open the DVD cabinet. “X-Men 2000, do you have that one?”

“Pfft,” Harry says, offended. “‘Course.” 

“The special effects are better in the newer ones, even if they do drag a bit,” Liam puts in. Harry thinks he’s got a crush on Michael Fassbender, which is nothing to be ashamed of. Harry’s never seen any man pull off a helmet quite as sexily. 

“Sorry, Liam. We’re watching Sirs Patrick and Ian because Louis and I want to be them when we grow up. I forgot. We already decided.” 

“You two decided which movie to watch without us,” Liam groans. “Typical.” 

He’s whining and Harry’s definitely not going to bend to that kind of childishness. Anyway, they haven’t all known each long enough for anything to be ‘typical.’ 

“Do you want popcorn?” His mum is hovering in the doorway to the kitchen. She’d been so curious to meet his friends. Harry thinks she stalked their Facebook profiles using his account. Like a creeper. 

“We’re good,” Harry hisses, at the same time as Louis says, “Sure, Mrs. Harry’s Mum. Can I help you make it?” 

Harry takes a deep breath and counts to three. And then he yells a bit anyway. 

Zayn asks, “Are you alright?” 

“Just thought of something painful.” It’s not a lie. Louis and his mum are about to be alone together in the kitchen. Something very bad might happen. Potentially involving pictures of eight-year-old Harry wearing Gemma’s dance costumes. Not that he hadn’t pulled them off fabulously. Not that he wouldn’t don them again, given the right incentive. 

“Okay,” Niall says, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get this started.” 

He grabs the DVD out of Harry’s hands and puts it into the player. The DVD menu music begins to blare embarassingly loudly over the sound system. His mum must not have turned it down after they’d finished with their daily Jane Fonda routine that morning. 

Harry plugs one ear and rushes to find the volume knob. “Sorry,” he shouts. 

Once it’s turned down he can hear popping coming from the other room and Louis and his mum’s voices rising above it, laughing. 

Oh god. 

Harry arranges himself on the couch beside Liam, sprawling out widely enough so that should Niall or Zayn decide they want to move over from the love seat and sit beside him before Louis returns with snacks, they won’t have space to do so. 

It’s not that he doesn’t like them. It’s just. He and Louis have _things_ to whisper about, like what their lives will be like as old men after being knighted by King William, gallivanting about London like tourists and playing inordinate amounts of chess. 

Neither Niall or Zayn seem inspired to try and Harry’s leg starts to ache a little, stretched as it is. Luckily, just when he’s thinking about taking the risk of adjusting, Louis reappears with big bowl of popcorn. 

“Bring the bowl over here. It matches my pants,” Harry calls. 

Louis gives Harry’s boxers a (second? third? fourth?) _look_ and then waggles his eyebrows. Harry licks his lips and watches Louis’ eyes track the motion with intent.

He strolls over to Harry, sets the bowl onto the side table, and says, “Where am _I_ supposed to sit, Harold?” 

Harry’s scrambling to sit up straighter, pull himself in tighter, when Louis plops himself onto Harry’s lap. 

“Never mind. Here’s good,” Louis announces. 

Harry feels his eyes bulge out of his head and hopes no one sees. Actually, he’d correct Louis’ statement. He’d say, _here’s arousing_. 

Louis’ bum is resting on Harry’s cock, separated by only a layer of thin cotton and, well, whatever Louis’ wearing. Harry doesn’t think it’s very much. At least, his imagination tells him that Louis’ probably not wearing pants. 

Harry knows Louis hates pants, and socks as well; he’s always going on about ‘smothering societal restrictions.’ 

(Harry feels similarly. About trousers. And shirts. And shoes.) 

Louis shifts his weight and settles against Harry’s chest, the movement jostling the fabric of Harry’s boxers against the head of his cock. 

There it goes. Hot and hard. 

He stutters out a breath. 

Into Louis’ ear, he whispers, “Oh my god.” 

“Well,” Louis turns his head to the other couch. “Harry’s excited. Let’s get this film rolling.” 

“We didn’t come over to watch you two have sex,” Liam says, grabbing the remote before Niall can, the wanker. Harry will give him this: he’s very perceptive. 

Still, Harry says, “We’re not having sex.” And then he adds, “Right now.” Because, well, they kind of are. His heart flutters in his chest at the thought. They _are_ having sex. Regularly. Well, sometimes. A few times. Twice to be exact. Even if it was in the toilets, it still totally counts. 

“I’m fully clothed, Liam. Someone needs to give you a little talk about the birds and the bees.” 

Liam puts a hand over his eyes and groans. Niall reaches for the remote and presses ‘play.’

“I think it’s sweet,” Niall says, nodding at Harry. “You guys are cute together. ‘M kinda jealous” 

Zayn hasn’t spoken in ages, his eyes fastened on the screen, even while the menu looped. Harry thinks he probably finds Louis’ attractive, too. He’s probably the _real_ jealous one. 

And, well, Louis is amazing, so Harry can’t even be mad. 

The movie begins and Louis shifts again. This time, the movement settles Harry’s dick right in the crack of his ass. 

Harry is definitely the luckiest person in the world because not only is Louis super hot, but he’s also super good at sex stuff. Like right now. He’s angling his body so that Harry’s dick slides just a bit deeper and then, he’s flexing his glutes, tightening his muscles around Harry.

“Oh wow. Love this, erm, part,” Harry says, to distract himself. But the words come out low and choked and everyone (except Zayn) turns to look at him. 

Speaking was definitely a bad idea. Liam flushes pink and turns back to the TV. Niall, a much better sport in Harry’s opinion, flashes him a thumbs up. 

“I’ll call in your mum,” Liam says. “See if she can bring us some drinks, if you guys don’t stop.”

“Stop what, Liam?” Louis asks, voice sharp. Harry wants to reach around, see if he’s hard too. He’s not quite tall enough to see over Louis’ shoulder and into his lap.

He has an idea. “Hey, um, Zayn. Could you pass me that blanket?” 

Zayn turns to look at them. He shakes his head, the bastard. 

“I’m cold,” he lies. Louis (who squeezes his ass again right _that moment_ ) is keeping him very, _very_ warm. 

“If you’re cold, put some damn clothes on,” Zayn shoots back. 

“They’re all the way upstairs. Zaynie.” Zayn’s looking at the TV again, ignoring Harry. “Come on, be a pal. Just toss it over.” 

Liam pauses the film. “You’re sweating. I can see it on your forehead. You don’t want that blanket because you’re cold. You want that blanket because you want to jerk Louis off underneath it.” 

Louis twists, rubbing Harry’s dick hard. Harry struggles not to gasp. He doesn’t succeed. _Now_ he can see Louis’ lap and the outline of Louis’ erection, _so thick_ , against his thigh. “You have a naughty mind, Liam Payne. I’m going to tell Karen about this for sure.” 

Liam juts out his chin and meets Louis straight in the eye. He’s very courageous, their Liam. “Don’t bully me. I don’t have a problem with you guys, erm, doing whatever it is you do, just, like, be polite and keep it in the bedroom. Is that so much to ask?” 

Louis straightens his shoulders. He might be even more brave than Liam, Harry thinks. A knight in shining armor. A captain leading his troops into battle. A pirate storming an enemy vessel. Frodo agreeing to destroy the ring. Harry Potter facing down Lord Voldemort. 

“What did you expect me to do when _this one-_ ” he nods backwards, the crown of head bopping Harry lightly on the nose- “answered the door in his pants? My faculties have been compromised by his beauty.” 

“You don’t have to ride him reverse cowgirl style in front of us. His mum is in the next room, for chrissake.” 

“Liam,” Louis drawls. “I’m impressed. You’ve been watching a lot of porn since I helped you set up that Redtube account, haven’t you?” 

“You helped him what?” Harry asks, a little flare of jealousy blooming in the pit of his belly. 

“I wasn’t gonna help him get off any other way, was I?” Louis replies, grinding down on Harry. 

Harry closes his eyes, head falling back against the couch. 

“I’m calling my mum to come pick me up,” Liam says. Harry doesn’t look to see if he’s serious. He thinks his eyes might be stuck shut. 

But, then, suddenly, Louis’ weight disappears and Harry feels himself flush, hot and then very cold. He wants Louis back. On his lap. 

“Well. Let’s go, then,” Louis says. 

Harry opens his eyes and looks down. The pink head of his dick is poking through the hole of his boxers which have ridden up so much on one thigh that his balls are almost in view as well. 

He scrambles up to follow Louis out of the room. But then he runs back in to say, “If my mum asks, tell her Louis is helping me get dressed. We’ll be right back down.”

No one is looking at him- he thinks he might still be a bit exposed- but Niall nods and says, “Sure, Harry. No problem. Get in.” 

Harry finds Louis draped across his bed. He looks good there, his tan skin and white outfit more lovely against the navy bedspread than any of Harry’s green throw pillows. 

“You’re in my bed,” Harry says, barely believing it. He blinks. Louis is still there, grinning up at him, hand cupping his cock through his trousers. 

“Nice place,” Louis says. Harry might be imagining it, but he thinks there’s a rasp to Louis’ voice that he hasn’t heard before. They haven’t done a lot of sexy talking. 

“I want to kiss you,” Harry says. It’s not totally a lie, even though what he really wants is put his hand right where Louis’ hand is, to feel the heat of him against his palm. Kissing sounds sweeter, safer. 

“Come on, then,” Louis tells him, puckering his lips. “Let’s have it.” 

Harry jumps on him, wrestling him flat. He doesn’t put up much of a fight. In fact, the only resistance he gives is a firm cant of his hips, pressing their groins tight together. 

_Oh god._ Harry opens his mouth, where it’s pressed against the smooth skin of Louis’ neck. 

Louis’ so perfect. Everything about him is perfect- his neck, his ass, his _moves_. A small animalistic part of Harry wants to tear Louis into perfect pieces, leave a mark here, a bruise there, hear him shout as he comes apart. 

Harry bites down into soft flesh of Louis’ throat and, just as he does, Louis begins to rock his hips up again and again and again, creating a fast -paced rhythm. Harry’s cock has slipped almost fully free of his boxers and is pressed tight to the more abrasive fabric at the crease of Louis’ thigh. The rub of it is a delicious, sizzling kind of painful. 

Louis’ erection is hot against Harry’s own thigh. Harry wonders fleetingly if he gets that big, that _hard_. He doesn’t think so, but he definitely wants to press their bare dicks together and find out. 

Louis moans, his thrusts slowing and lengthening. Harry pushes back, attempting to match this new rhythm with sharp movements of his own. The friction burns hot up and down his legs, his fingers tingling, arms trembling. 

“Fuck,” Louis breathes and Harry freezes because his thigh is wet against Louis’ cock. And then, gasping, Louis says, “No keep... You can finish.” 

Harry speeds up his pace, Louis’ hands sliding up his back and into his hair. He’s tightening a lock of it in his fist and pulling, and the rush of pleasure that shoots down Harry’s spine and straight to Harry’s cock is enough to do it for him. 

Suddenly, they’re both panting, Harry collapsing onto Louis with an, “Oh my god.” 

“I’m that good?” Louis sounds pleased. When, a few moments later, Harry manages to roll himself off Louis and look him in the face, Louis smirks at him. 

“You’re incredible,” Harry murmurs, still out of breath. He reaches down and squeezes the damp fabric around Louis’ softening dick. 

Louis gasps, drawing in on himself before lashing out to tweak one of Harry’s nipples. 

“You are,” he says, pulling back, eyes down, face flushed, maybe from the sex, but maybe also from… other feelings. Harry hopes. 

“I’m incredible?” Harry asks, deciding he wants to know for sure. 

“You’re cheeky,” Louis replies, closing his eyes, with a broad, easy smile. 

“You _are,_ ” Harry says, replaying in his mind the way Louis ass _cheeks_ had felt just minutes earlier, squeezing his dick. Said dick barely twitches at the thought, but he knows that won’t be the last time he thinks of the incident. His dick will have plenty of time to warm up to the memory later. 

“We should go back before your mum comes looking for us.” Harry has some difficulty understanding the words, as they’re muffled by the pillow Louis’ stuffed his face into. 

“Why are you hiding?” Harry asks. 

Louis sits up, immediately, brows drawing together, dropping the pillow. “I’m not hiding, Harry. Why would you even think that?”

When Harry watches him intently without replying, Louis brushes a sweaty piece of fringe off his forehead. 

“I like you,” Louis huffs, finally. 

“I knew it,” Harry replies, with a cackle. “I totally knew it.” 

“Shut up. It’s not like it’s some big secret.” Louis doesn’t sound annoyed. He sounds happy. 

Harry leans over and kisses his cheek. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Louis reaches out again to tweak a nipple, a different one this time. “Let’s get dressed.” 

“You wanna wear a pair of my new boxers, since you’ve messed up your trousers? I have this sky blue pair that I think you’d look amazing in.” Harry walks over to his bureau and begins pulling out drawers. 

“Just give me some sweats.” 

“You’re such a prude,” Harry tells him. 

“A _prude_?” Louis squawks, jaw dropping and eyebrows crawling all the way up to his hairline. Maybe that’s not the right word, but Harry doesn’t say so. He just nods and laughs. 

When they finally make their way back into the living room, Harry’s mum is leaning on the couch, eyes on the screen. 

Harry’s stomach drops. How long has she been standing there? Oh god. Harry’s found a beautiful boy who _likes_ him and Louis’ probably never going to be able to show his face in Harry’s home again. 

“I love this part,” she says. “Couldn’t miss it.” 

Harry glances at the screen as he resumes his earlier spot on the couch. Louis sits beside him, a careful inch or two separating them. 

Niall laughs, even though the music from the film is low and romantic. He’s laughing at Louis and Harry, for sure, because on screen Wolverine is reaching out to touch the dying Rogue’s face. 

He and Louis have been gone a _long_ time. Harry doesn’t know how that happened. 

“Glad to see you’ve put on some more clothes,” his mum says, once the scene changes and she glances down at him. 

Louis’d managed to wrangle him into a shirt, but the struggle had devolved into making out which turned into Harry admitting that _he_ liked Louis, too. Which had inspired Louis to kiss him again. By which time both of them were ready for another go around. 

Maybe the time passed wasn’t so much a mystery. 

He glances over at Louis, who glances back, smiling and reaching out to brush Harry’s thigh with the back of his knuckle. 

“Boyfriends?” Louis mouths.

Harry heart picks up speed, but he nods. Boyfriends. 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](http://juliusschmidt.tumblr.com/post/146331122435/cant-nobody-stop-the-juice-by-juliusschmidt-hl)


End file.
